


The Art and History of Kissing as It Relates to Elijah Wood

by often_adamanta



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-01
Updated: 2007-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/often_adamanta/pseuds/often_adamanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Beta'd by the wonderful <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_violettefemme"><a href="http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/"><b>violettefemme</b></a></span><br/>. Written for <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_crumble72"><a href="http://crumble72.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://crumble72.livejournal.com/"><b>crumble72</b></a></span> in the 2006 <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_slashababy"><a href="http://slashababy.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://slashababy.livejournal.com/"><b>slashababy</b></a></span></p>
    </blockquote>





	The Art and History of Kissing as It Relates to Elijah Wood

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful [](http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/profile)[**violettefemme**](http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/)  
> . Written for [](http://crumble72.livejournal.com/profile)[**crumble72**](http://crumble72.livejournal.com/) in the 2006 [](http://slashababy.livejournal.com/profile)[**slashababy**](http://slashababy.livejournal.com/)

Elijah has been obsessed with kissing for as long as he can remember.

There is no end to the list of childhood experiences that might have started his peculiar fascination: his mother kissing his forehead every night while tucking him into bed, kisses from his sister in the bath that left soap bubbles on his cheeks, catching sight of the quick kisses his parents shared when they were in the kitchen making dinner.

His sister used to make him play Barbies with her, scathingly telling him that he had to be Ken because he was a _boy_ , even though his voice was in the same octave as hers and she was almost four inches taller. No matter what story she came up with next, Ken and Barbie always ended up kissing, multiple times, their cold, plastic faces smushed together in a caricature of passion.

He never could grasp the way his friends and classmates felt toward kissing when he was younger. At recess, the girls ran after the boys, threatening them with kisses if they were caught. Elijah never minded the kisses and refused to run away, which only meant that the girls didn’t kiss him. It made no sense to him. He didn’t understand girls at all.

One time at school, kids from his brother’s school came and put on a play where all the characters were horses. They stood upright, but galloped around the stage instead of walking. He remembers the girls giggling and the boys pretending to gag when they met two of the performers afterwards and asked if they had really kissed, for real. They had looked amused and answered yes, of course, to the great dismay of his classmates. Elijah had never thought otherwise. He’d wanted to ask how they remembered all the words and whether everyone was allowed to be in plays, but his teacher led them away before he had a chance.

When he was ten, he walked in on his brother kissing a girl. Her thin arms were wrapped around Zack’s neck. He had one hand on the back of her head, fingers in her hair, and one pressed against the small of her back, pushed up underneath her short, purple shirt. Elijah had stood in the doorway, eyes wide, and watched as their lips touched, but not just touch, no simple, quick peck. Their mouths were open and making wet noises and moving together, their breath escaping in rapid gusts from their noses. She made a low noise, and Zack pulled her closer, and Elijah’d never seen anything like it. He thought he’d seen kissing, but this was longer and more involved than he’d ever imagined. He watched until Zack’s eyes fluttered open and saw him, and then ran from his brother’s angry shout and the girl’s high giggle and the math textbook that flew through the space in the doorway that he’d occupied just a few seconds before.

That’s when Elijah decided he wanted to kiss a girl.

It wouldn’t happen for almost a year, until he turned eleven, although he’d told her he was twelve. Her name was Emily Davidson, and she had blond hair and brown eyes, and she smiled at him in the halls, so he thought he liked her. Her lips were chapped, and he felt thoroughly awkward and was afraid someone was going to see them, so it was far too short, and he thought it was gross when she tried to use her tongue. But even all that couldn’t take away from the captivating feeling of another mouth against his, how they were so close that he could feel her breath on his face.

He never kissed Emily again, but there was a long string of girls after her that taught him how to kiss. After all, practice makes perfect, and Elijah had every intention of attempting perfection.

At this point, Elijah really thought that his firsts were over, at least in the kissing department, but, as is often the case, he turned out to be very wrong. His next first happened when he was fifteen while filming _Flipper_. He’d been hanging out with one of the crewmember’s kids named Mark, a boy his own age, during the long set breaks. They’d been sitting around laughing and arguing about music, when out of nowhere, Mark leaned over and kissed him, hard. He didn’t kiss back for a few seconds, shocked and torn between pulling away and returning the kiss, but soon enough he responded, tentatively. Mark’s fingers were firm against the back of his neck, and his mouth was open, and he didn’t flinch back when their teeth hit. It was messier than kissing a girl, and more intense, and when Elijah finally did pull away, he was wide eyed because he liked it.

It didn’t take much after that to convince him that this was something he wouldn’t particularly mind repeating. So he did.

The next noteworthy event takes place in New Zealand. It happened on a Friday after a long day of filming. Elijah was in that depressingly melancholy state of mind that only large amounts of alcohol and being a million miles from home can cause, when Dom, after trying for half an hour to cheer him up, leaned over and pressed their lips together. It didn’t feel all that sexual, but it took his mind off being homesick and felt comfortable and warm. Dom really was a good kisser, and their tongues slid together easily, perfectly compatible. Dom smiled when they parted and went on without missing a beat.

It didn’t happen very often. They could go weeks, or even months, without kissing, but every now and then when one of them felt like it, they’d make out. Dom called it a friendly snog, and Elijah agreed, shrugging. Neither needed to turn it into something other than the casual companionship it was.

Things changed when Billy walked in on them one day during one of their friendly snogging sessions, a result of sheer boredom and Dom’s absolute hatred of being in such a state. They’d wrenched apart as soon as the door had opened, but Billy’s eyes had flickered between their red lips and close proximity, before fleeing, the door slamming shut behind him. Dom swore and chased after him.

Elijah still isn’t sure exactly what happened after that, but the crew was buzzing about a kiss between Viggo and Billy caught on tape, and he and Sean had found themselves locked out of the trailer for two and a half hours.

After that, Billy and Dom were kissing constantly.

He watched them, sometimes, and it was clear that this was far more than just a friendly snog. They clung to one another, closer than seemed possible, and then attempted to crawl into each other’s mouths, as if nothing else would ever satisfy them. Elijah knew that he’d never experienced a kiss like that, born of love and need. He admitted to himself, wistfully, that this was yet another aspect of kissing that he wanted, but knew that it wasn’t that simple and resigned himself to the fact that he might never find it.

Yet none of his ample experience with matters of this nature can help him with his current problem. It’s a fixation that’s been growing for some time. At first he blamed it on curiosity and his accepted obsession with kissing. An inability to take his eyes off Orlando’s lips is practically par for the course. When he found his eyes straying to Orli’s swift movements during training, lingering over the long curve of his neck revealed with the removal of his wig at the end of the day, imagining those thin, strong fingers running over his skin… well, that was something entirely more difficult to explain away.

It’s rather hard to ignore, but most days Elijah’s so busy that he doesn’t have time to worry about it. Situations like the current one are what really bother him. He’s settled on the couch next to Dom with a clear view of Orli talking with Liv, skin reflecting the flickering lights of the Christmas tree next to them. Orli’s laughing and talking; his voice carrying over the noise of the party, making Elijah feel flushed, blood pooling in his skin as if the room was ten degrees hotter than it really is. Elijah’s never wanted to kiss someone as much as he wants Orli.

Dom elbows him in the side after a prolonged bout of staring, and Elijah decides to get out of there, quick, so he makes a joke and excuses himself.

If anything, it’s hotter outside, but there’s a breeze, and he feels like he can breathe better on the open porch. He leans against a post and closes his eyes and tries, for a second, to think of nothing, especially things he knows he can’t have.

When the door opens and Orli joins him, he doesn’t even have to open his eyes to identify him. He can smell Orli beneath the scent of pine and cinnamon that fills the house, and the knowledge of just how far he’s fallen makes him sigh.

His eyes flutter open as Orli brushes a thumb across his cheekbone. Orli smiles a bit, and then looks up, and Elijah follows his eyes to see the mistletoe hanging above them, and snorts, because that is so cheesy and clichéd that it makes him want to look around for the cameras. These situations only happen in badly scripted romance movies, of which Elijah’s seen his fair share.

Orli moves closer, and Elijah doesn’t really want their first, and perhaps only, kiss to be based off a tradition so old it’s practically meaningless, but he’ll take it, God, yes, he will.

It’s another first kiss, but there’s nothing awkward or startling about it. Orli’s lips are confident, brushing against his own. They both know how this goes, how to align their separate mouths so that they fit together, more flawlessly than Elijah’d thought possible. He brings his hand up to cup Orli’s jaw as their lips part, reaching for more, and Elijah can feel Orli’s stubble rasp against his palm as his mouth opens and closes.

The tip of Orli’s tongue is exploring his mouth, the textured roof, the soft flesh of his cheek, the way their tongues move against each other and the gap in his front teeth as Orli’s tongue retreats. Elijah breathes in deeply through his nose and follows.

Orli’s arm has wrapped itself around Elijah’s waist, and their breaths mingle. Elijah knows now that they’re not in that standard romance, because their breath should be visible in the cold air, but it’s the Southern Hemisphere, and they’re both in t-shirts because it’s so warm out. Orli’s eyes are closed, and if it there was more light, Elijah would be able to see the tiny veins running through the thin skin of his eyelids, but as it is, he closes his eyes and loses himself in the wet warmth of a kiss he never thought he’d have.

Elijah’s not sure how long they kiss, but eventually Orli moans, low in his throat, at a twist of Elijah’s tongue, and Orli pulls back, eyes snapping to the door as if remembering that anyone can see them. He doesn’t move away, however, just shifts his body closer and rests his pointed chin on the top of Elijah’s head. Elijah remains still and enjoys the embrace while he can.

It’s standing here in Orli’s arms that Elijah realizes he’d rather be here in this moment, quiet and simple, than be doing anything else. His obsession with Orlando has gone beyond his lifelong fixation with kissing, which is shocking, actually, when he thinks about it.

He tries not to hope, but Orli’s wrapped around him and doesn’t seem to be saying no, and he can’t manage to stop himself from believing, if only for the moment, that this could be real.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at livejournal [here](http://often-adamanta.livejournal.com/160947.html).


End file.
